Morning Field

As the sun peaks up into the sky the blue pickup truck goes down the dusty road to the field that barren laid and the red tractor waiting there father and son in blue jeans clad walked from the truck across the land to the job are waiting for them there to begin a new as such in every year so big the wheels with cleats deep red painted steel and rubber so black the scent of grease and of used oil and dust that tickled and teased the nose black painted seat with flecks of rust up so high to be rode so many petals and levers there hard black rubber wheel oh so wide father climbs up and takes his seat reaches down and lifts up his son setting him down upon his knee reaches down and turns the key a lever is moved a throttle to set the choke pulled out to just right there a round pedal then depressed and with a grind the engine starts moving levers the plow is raised with hiss of hydraulics and squeaks of steel depress the clutch and shift into gear increase the throttle and ease off the clutch and with a lurch the tractor moves heading out into the field the father steers the boy watches as they move to where to begin stopping there lowering the plow the father says he’ll do the first then coming back he’ll let his son plow furrows in the field back and forth in the rising sun the scent of soil freshly turned birds that land where they had been seeking the worms now exposed and at noon they take a break for tuna sandwiches and paper wrapped a big thermos of still cold milk and for apples fresh and red working on in light of sun through the day both long and hot till the sun touches again the land at end of day before work is done leaving the tractor in the field walking back into their truck the first of many days are now done as they get in and drive away another day for father and son as they work in light of sun sharing together the joy of the land and the working of it which is their life’s